


fireworks to light the sky

by Irrwisch



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Gen, M/M, POV Husk, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot, War, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrwisch/pseuds/Irrwisch
Summary: They were all gone. He didn’t really remember how they died, but they must’ve died in the bombings. He should’ve died too. Instead here he was, huddling behind some measly cover in a god-forsaken shack hoping he wouldn’t be found. If only the bombings would stop, then he could leave and find his way back to base - but then the noise stops and the red soldier comes in.
Relationships: Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 156





	fireworks to light the sky

They were everywhere.

He could hear them outside and all he could do was huddle inside this tiny little shack and wait for it to be over. He was alone, too. He didn’t quite remember how his team-mates died, but Husk was sure it must’ve been in the bombings.

There was no weapon in his hands.

He must’ve lost it during running away. What would his commander say? Of course, that would require him to make it out of the hot zone alive. Of course, that would require his commander to still be alive. Husk didn’t even know where he _was_. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what his mission was supposed to be. Had it been to simply check the village? See if there could be a tactical position? He didn’t remember. _He didn’t remember._

Not that it mattered now, anyway. With the constant bombings he wasn’t able to scout out anything. The worst thing was – if he got out of here alive, they might give him a medal. He didn’t want a medal. He’s done nothing heroic this whole war.

What good would a medal do? It wouldn’t bring those back that died. Shit, it wouldn’t even _honour_ them. It would simply remind him for the rest of his days that he was an utter and complete failure.

_Boom._

Fuck that had been close. Were they honing in on his position? But how did they do that? He didn’t have anything. He didn’t have a radio that they could try to track. He must’ve lost that thing too, when he was running away. What a failure. What if his commander had tried to reach him, but he was such a klutz that he lost the one fucking radio they’ve had?

He pressed his head in between in knees. It’d be over soon. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t hit his shelter. If he was luckier, they would hit his shelter. He didn’t know what he was hoping for but maybe – maybe it was the latter. If he died, he didn’t have to go back. If he died, he didn’t have to face the consequences of his survival.

If he just died, it would be over.  
He would go home.

Home in a casket, yes, but he’d go _home_.

So maybe he should head outside.

And if he died, the bombings would stop. They’d never come back.

Come to think of it...

The bombings stopped. There were no more sounds from outside. There went his foul-proof plan. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think the danger’s passed. Oh no. Now, the enemy soldiers would swarm the place to eradicate every survivor.

He needed a weapon – anything to defend himself with. It didn’t matter what it was. It was one way to die by being bombed, but being shot in the head? Or worse, being taken prisoner? What would they think? Stupid Husk got captured and would probably blabber out every secret he knew.

He clenched his jaw. No. No, that wouldn’t happen. He might be a disappointment that failed to die with his team-mates, but he would not turn into a prisoner. He’d die in dignity – as least as much as he could still muster after cowering here in fear.

Husk took a few deep breaths. He could do this. He could get out of this alive. Playing dead wasn’t an option – he wore military uniform. They’d butt his head with the rifle and that would kill him. They wouldn’t waste a bullet on a presumably dead soldier but they wouldn’t take any chances with him either. Most likely, they’d stab him with a dagger too, just to make sure he was dead.

No.

The only choice was to fight and run. There was no honour found on the battlefield.

Here, there was only death. There was no glory, no victory.

There were just dead men that would never see their home again. There were just dead civilians who did nothing wrong but to live in the wrong place.

And back home, nobody would understand.

_“Thank you for your service.”_

_“You’ve done our country a great honour.”_

_“It’s an honour to meet you.”_

And then there was the – the idolising. He balled his fists. There’d be all these little boys looking at soldiers and then telling their mommies that they wanted to be a soldier too. And then their mothers would encourage it and their fathers would tell them how proud they were.

There was no glory in war.

There was no pride in standing on the battlefield.

There was no courage in lying in the trenches, waiting for a shot.

There was only pain, and misery, and death.

And back home, nobody would care about that.

There.

He heard rustling outside the door. It seemed they finally made it to this little shack. Fine. He’s made up his mind. He’d wait, and then he’d ambush them. He had no weapon, but his fists would need to do. He could do this. He trained for this.

“Husk?”  
Shit. Shit, how did they know his name? Did they specifically look for him? Why? He wasn’t important, he was just an ordinary soldier. Maybe he lost his dog tag. But that wouldn’t explain why they used his nickname. It didn’t matter. So, they knew he was here. Maybe they didn’t know he was in this particular house. It’d still be okay. He could still ambush them. He peeked from behind his cover. It was just one man, from the looks of it. He had something long in his hand, but Husk couldn’t quite tell what gun it was. Never mind, it needed to leave the enemy’s hand. He looked scrawny, so he’d probably be easy to overpower. Good.

“Husk, why are you hiding behind the couch?”

Shit. Shit, he’s seen him. Okay. No point in hiding anymore. Let him get just a bit closer and then attack. He could do this. He’d still feel safer if he’d at least have a knife or anything. But he could do it. He was a soldier. He wasn’t afraid.

“I didn’t know you were this bad at hide-and-seek, Husker. Is this how you keep letting Niffty win?”

Now was his chance to strike. The guy was close enough. Husk leaped from behind his hiding spot and jumped at this guy’s throat. The guy was pretty tall, but he had the advantage of being the aggressor. He could do it. Just overthrow the enemy, knock him out, take his weapon and book it. He’d find a radio somewhere, maybe even other people from his side.

He managed to knock the guy down, but his enemy was quick to grasp his wrists and turn him flat on his back. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. That didn’t go as planned. He had to fight. He _had_ to fight. So he did. He bucked and wriggled but the guy’s grip was iron-tight. At least they were locked now. That meant the guy wouldn’t be able to use his weapon either. So he could still turn this around and win. Maybe a scare-tactic would work?

Husk looked at the guy’s face – and all he saw was red. Oh god. This guy was so red. Did he kill so many that even his hair got stained with blood? How was he to stand against such a ruthless killer? He suddenly lost all will to fight. He couldn’t expect mercy from this guy. So he bucked and wriggled again, but this time with the intent to just run. Just run anywhere he could; as far away from this guy as possible. Is this why he came alone? Was it because he didn’t need a squad to help him?

“Please just let me go, I don’t know anything, please –“

He never thought he’d resort to begging, but – he didn’t want to die. He was terrified of dying here. They’d hail him a hero if they’d ever knew about him at all and this would never end. Of course, him being alive wouldn’t change a thing, either, but – he just wanted to stay alive, alright?

He still didn’t have a family.

There were still magic tricks he wanted to learn.

There were still gambles he hadn’t taken.

There was still booze he hadn’t tried out.

Was it too much to ask for just one more day?

The enemy yelled at him. At least that’s what he thought it was. Maybe it was him; the little, pathetic soldier that would be hailed a hero after the war. He should be forgotten. He should be forgotten. He should be –

He blacked out.

When he came to, he was being held. It felt nice. It was a bit cold, but it wasn’t overly uncomfortable. There was a hand on his head too, and that felt quite nice as well.

Husk didn’t remember what happened.

He was...

He couldn’t say.

It felt like there was some sort of fog in his head and he couldn’t clear it out.

“Husk.”

It was Alastor’s voice. Of course it was him. As terrifying that thought was, hearing his voice was soothing right now. If the Radio Demon was here, he didn’t need to worry about anything.

“Are you with me?”

What a strange question to ask. Husk closed his eyes and pressed closer to Alastor. Physical contact was so rare; he’d take every little piece of it he could get. Hearing his heart beat and feel him breathing was oddly satisfying.

“I’m always gonna be with you.”


End file.
